Bastard
by izukus
Summary: secrets are always meant to be told but for Team Seven, they were better left unsaid.


❝ _and people stared and pointed and called him the demon child. _❞

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The scroll felt heavy in his scarred hands. His nails scratched against the thick paper and the ink felt cold on his fingers. With his hands splayed out on the open parchment, he eyed it with a scrutinizing gaze. The scroll, which was filled with inks of very different kanji and hiragana and pictures of hand signs, was a strange weight that rolled around in his arms as he picked it up, rolled it out and then sat in front of it, roaming his fingers along the smudged ink.

It was heavy in his arms yet it felt lighter than even a feather could. His fingers moved along the edges of the rolled open scroll and he thumbed the corner of it diligently. The sound of owls hooting and bushes rustling gave him indication of where he was—what he was doing—_why _he was doing it. Insight is what he likes to call it, perhaps there's a better word, but he drags his fingers away from the ink and across the blades of grass. They tickle his skin and he plucks them from soil like they were worms wriggling to the surface for whatever reasons worms wriggled to the surface. Sensation, (_or maybe it was called only a just perception?), _is hard to focus on. The owls hoot in his ears and the blades of grass tickle his skin and he tastes the nervousness on his tongue.

Bitter is what the taste is. Bitter and cold and just like salt but with no real flavor. He doesn't really know what salt tastes like by itself—he resolves to find out though (_wasn't he doing something? With a scroll in his hands?) _and twirls grass between his thin fingers. Then his eyes grab the notice of a small sunflower sprouting from the soil. It's swaying in a light breeze he doesn't notice and his eyes are now captured by the flower that's appeared by his side. Like a little friend he thinks, ready to help him in need. His fingers twitch, blades of grass falling back to the ground uselessly, and he plucks the sunflower from the soil next, twirling it in his fingers.

He's suppose to be studying the scroll, he knows he is, but every time he looks at it, it reminds him of the exams earlier and he feels disgusted within his own body. His fingers poke at the ink and drag along the kanji, hiragana, and random hand signs scattered all over. It doesn't just tell him why he's here or what he is doing here but it tells him _how _he got here and it's a long story that tugs at the back of his mind. _Why won't you just remember? Get lost in the memories and swim in your mind. _He wants to—it seems a bit carefree there—but peace is always broken and he doesn't seem keen on figuring out that just how he had gotten there in the first place.

Instead, he rolls.

He rolls the scroll until it stops at its last page. It is a pretty big scroll and he feels overwhelmed with the amount of Jutsu and foreign names echoing in his thoughts. There's seals and chakra natures and even Kekkei Genkais. Clones are the first on the list and he feels inadequate when he stares at the signs and the description of _Shadow Clone Jutsu _as if it had just punched him in the gut after eating expired food for two days.

_Such a long list—but which to use? To follow? To make into a legend? _He doesn't know, not really, and the realization knocks him off his feet long enough for him to grab at his hair and tug with the sounds of frustration. There is reason to this large scroll, there is reason to have situated himself in the woods, there is reason—_there is always reason, all things happen within reason, for reason, even because of reasons—_, always is a reason, and it baffles him at the way his mind shuts down when it was so loud before. Rolling back to sit upright once more, he gazed at the length of the scroll and then leaned back until his back fell on the grass and his gaze to the stars.

This scroll baffles him and his brows furrow as he rolls over to his side. He would need to finish this quick, faster than ever before, and he had to do it now without any interruptions because it was his _last _chance and the words ring in his head to the point where he doesn't waste time in thinking about what to choose and which to use. Instead, he goes down the list and plucks the useful ones from his memory, hesitating briefly as he skimmed his eyes across the lengthy, taking half of the scroll with it, Jutsu description.

His fingers drag on the ink again and his mind sparks to life. _Why not use it? Why not show them your strength? Show them who you are—Uzumaki Naruto, child of the—_it shuts up before it finishes and Naruto sits in silence for the better half of his conflicted inner thoughts. It seems plain, not very showy and flashy enough to get attention, but it's lengthy and his mind won't shut up if he sees it. So, he unfurls the scroll a bit more at the top, tries to read the rest of the signs, and unzips his jacket to toss it to the side.

His mind sparks, taking in the determination that pumps through his blood. He grins with the face of a Cheshire Cat and the moon illuminates the clearing he's hidden himself in.

_That's it—use it, fuel your greed, become someone they love—someone they can't help but hate. Be all you ever are and maybe you'll survive._

And maybe he'll survive.

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A cold sweat breaks out on his body. His chest is heaving, his head is spinning, and the world tilts on its axis for a few minutes. He doesn't come back to reality until his head hits a tree and he blinks away an hour's worth of no rest. Training is difficult, he summarizes, within the short hours of his search.

He is tired, he is hungry, he is beaten and he is all bruised. The scroll lays on a tree, rolled up and all perfect, and he stumbles over. Grabbing the strap, he hauls it up and puts it over his shoulder. This is a new predicament now, he was sure that he would be seen by anyone now, but it looked like he was left to wait out for his new headband. It leaves him a bit lightheaded (_or maybe that's the __**insomnia **__that was talking) _and he grins despite himself. The blue of his eyes is lightened by the moon and he struggles to make it up a single tree.

_Not working—too weak, too little. Just a nuisance, Uzumaki Naruto—_he tugs harshly on his hair, the pain shuts up his mind and he focuses almost blearily at the shape of a wooden cabin that probably isn't a _good _cabin but it is a place to rest and to stay relaxed until the years—he means _minutes—_go by as if it was frozen time. He doesn't get a chance to enter however as the bushes rustle behind his back and out of instinct, Naruto's mind spins into action and screams like it's being tortured.

_Intruder, killer, fight with your life—_

The blade leaves his fingers as quick as lightning. It slams against something—someone—and Naruto's heart drops into the pit of his stomach as a person comes out from the bushes, dark skinned with a scar across his nose and a kunai embedded into his flak jacket which was oozing blood.

"Sorry," he feels his lips go dry as Iruka yanks the blade from his shoulder and grits his teeth, "you just _scared _me." Iruka doesn't seem to listen and only glares heatedly at him as if Naruto had admitted to putting itching powder in his underwear. (_though it was a fun thing to watch). _He feels uneasy, the all too familiar glare lighting up his blood and sparking up his mind.

Fortunately, Naruto has enough intelligence to see where Iruka's eyes trail too and he reaches behind him to poke and prod at the scroll on his back. "Oh," his grin returns, albeit hesitantly, "are you here to test me again, Iruka-Sensei? I learned something very uh—_nice _in here, I've been practicing all night long!"

Iruka's face morphs into confusion and Naruto's ears twitch as the sounds of the wind shift. His mind goes into overdrive, lighting up every nerve in his small body as it screams and rattles in his skull. _Someone is here, Uzumaki—_this time, he spins on his heel and lets his hand grab four blades, throwing them with enough force to slam into trees and hit whoever was within them. A grunt is heard and a flash of silver hair catches his attention. His mind rattles at the sight and he feels burning fire boiling his blood to the point where it emits from his body like a wave of pure, unbridled heat.

_Show them—fight with your power—become who they fear—__**survive**__._

His mind shuts down and Naruto distinctly has a memory of someone screaming in pain.

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**Isn't this a toss? Here's the first chapter of **_**Bastard**_** and I hope you enjoy! I'll be cross posting this so don't worry if you want to read more. Thoughts on Naruto? You can imagine your own ending if you want, it's no matter to me, but I do hope you enjoyed this.**

**Next Chapter:**

月—_Moon._


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